Bad Dreams
by Mollylyn
Summary: Post Priority of Life *Oneshot*. Bad Dreams: He knows its a side effect of the job, one that he struggles with himself. He knows that its what makes them human; its what proves to them that they still have souls. Minor Spoilers and, of course, Jam.


**A/N: Not quite sure where this came from... Jam oneshot following Priority of Life. **

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><p>She sat straight up, frantically scanning the room for signs of life. Its dark, and she knows she's beyond tired because her eyes are playing tricks on her. She sees that there is nothing there, and yet her eyes seem to sense movement. Lines of light not there toy with her as she tries to believe what she is seeing; tries to convince herself what she's seeing is real. She noticed that she was shaking like a leaf and sweating like a dog, and if there were a simile out there for crying she was probably that too. She rubs at her eyes, and slight movement beside her catches her gaze. The lump beside her is moving, reaching out for her. It's mildly terrifying, though, given her current state, it doesn't really phase her much.<p>

Relief washes over her as she realizes its Sam, and he's half awake. Half awake is better than asleep. He looks at her warily, knowing full well whats going on. His arm snakes around her waste, persuading her to lay back down beside him. He pulls her into him, and he feels the wetness hit his bare chest as she presses her face against it. She places her open palms on his torso; she doesn't need to wrap her arms around him; he's holding on tight enough for the both of them. He whispers something to her about how she's safe, that it's ok, that it was just a dream. She had told him once there was nothing he could say that would make her feel better after a nightmare, and he agreed. The thing about dreams is the feelings are real - and the fear, sadness, and anger tend to linger. Still, he says those things he hopes might comfort her because, if nothing else, his voice will reassure her that he's real, that she's safe, that this is reality and not what she was just pulled out of.

He wonders how often she has nightmares like this. Since they've been back together he's been around for a few; a few too many to be exact. He wonders if she has them when he's gone - for a while there, while they were hiding their relationship, there had come nights when they simply couldn't cover their tracks and would opt to sleep apart, at their own homes. He wonders how many nights she woke up alone and broken, the dream's grip still wreaking havoc on her emotions. He wonders if she would tell him if she had. Someone once told him that dreams were the mind's way of working things out - he wonders what kind of fucked up world he lives in if thats true because, frankly, if Jules has these kinds of things for her mind to work out then he's missing something, and she probably needs therapy.

He knows thats not the case though. He knows its a side effect of the job, one that he struggles with himself. He knows that its what makes them human; its what proves to them that they still have souls. He knows that when he wakes from one all he wants is to be close to someone, to have something to hold onto so he continues to embrace her sweaty form and pulls the blanket over them both.

She's still pressed up against his chest, shielding herself from the dangers of the dream, and he can't quite see her face. He can, however, feel that her breath has evened out and he decides his voice must have done the trick because she seems to have gotten back to sleep. He rests his chin on her crown, mumbling something about how much he loves her as his eyes close and he drifts off to sleep himself.

And there it is, the scene he's been playing out since the day it happened. Trouble is it's different this time - Xavier won't give in, won't let them leave. Won't let _her_ leave. Raf can't find the switch, and he's screaming at himself on the inside for not having gone in when Jules was still alright, before the room had gone into lockdown. She turns to face him and opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. His mouth is open too, and yet all that comes out is air because his mind won't slow down enough for his tongue to keep up.

Suddenly there she is. Her hands are on either side of his face, and she's telling him he's alright, that she's right there, that she's not going anywhere. This time its him who's shaking, sweating, crying, and her thats saying useless words of comfort, just so he can have something to hold onto to remind him of whats real.

His feelings still linger, the sadness, the anger, the fear, and yet he's happy because she's there. She always will be. He knows because their days of hiding are behind them and that thought alone is enough make the tears go away. Everything else will follow.


End file.
